


Jochebed

by Polyhexian



Series: Humanformers: The Music AU [40]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Abandonment Issues, Child Death Mentioned, Childhood Trauma, Gen, Humanformers, POV Third Person, oh my god how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26679559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polyhexian/pseuds/Polyhexian
Summary: It's Quark's funeral.
Series: Humanformers: The Music AU [40]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859230
Comments: 11
Kudos: 39





	Jochebed

"Turn around. I can do it."

Brainstorm did as he was told and turned, waiting while Chromedome stood behind him and looped his tie around his neck and under the collar in an oriental knot.

"Sorry," Chromedome commented, pulling it through, "I don't know how to do a windsor. I'm pretty sure you're supposed to do a windsor for things like this."

"It's fine," Brainstorm muttered, "It's not like there's anyone there who's going to care."

Chromedome's hands hesitated for a moment, before he sighed and finished. "Okay. Jacket."

"Yeah," said Brainstorm vaguely, looking toward the suit jacket on the couch. 

"I wish you had told me earlier you didn't have a real suit," Rewind fretted, pulling on his jacket as he joined them in the living room, "I would have bought you a new one."

"It's fine," Brainstorm dismissed, picking up his jacket, a cool black whereas his pants were a warm black, a bit lighter, clearly not a matched set and clearly not fitted, "It doesn't even matter." 

Rewind gave him a sad look and then let it go. "Are you ready, Domey?" 

"I'm ready." Chromedome adjusted his tie self consciously and grabbed his wallet off the counter, before he put a hand on Brainstorm's lower back to herd him toward and out the front door and into the car. He hesitated, glancing between the passenger door and the back door and then glanced at Rewind, who tilted his head toward the back door. Chromedome climbed into the back seat beside Brainstorm and wasn't surprised when he slumped sideways against him. Chromedome reached across him to grab his seatbelt and buckle him in. 

"Do you have the address?" Chromedome asked as Rewind sat down and started the car.

"Yeah, I've got it," Rewind said as he clipped his phone to the dashboard and pulled up a GPS app. Chromedome glanced back at Brainstorm, and then shifted his arm and put it around his shoulders so it wouldn't fall asleep.

"Are you going to be okay today?" Chromedome asked him, voice gentle.

"Yeah," Brainstorm replied. 

"You know if it's too hard, if you want to leave, you can just say so, okay?"

"Sure."

Chromedome sighed, watching the ground outside the window as Rewind backed out the driveway and pulled out onto the road. He glanced back down at Brainstorm, leaning against him with a blank expression.

"You were ten when you met him, right?" Chromedome tried, and noticed Rewind's concerned look in the rearview mirror, but he didn't interject. 

"Yeah," Brainstorm confirmed.

"Sixth grade, then?"

"Yeah."

"So he was… a freshman at the time?"

"No," said Brainstorm, "He was a sophomore. He was a senior when he went missing." Brainstorm hesitated. "When he died." He hesitated again. "When he was killed."

"So he was four, five years older than you?"

"About."

"What do you remember about him?"

Brainstorm was quiet for a while, and Chromedome thought he wasn't going to respond, until he spoke again, his voice soft and hoarse. "He used to help me with my homework. I was always smart, but terrible at studying. No organization. I would lose assignments, forget homework, turn things in late… people used to say I was stupid, just not to my face. He said I wasn't stupid and put a calendar up in our room and had me write down everything that was due on it. He was always reminding about things. My grades got better. I think maybe he had ADHD and he'd already gone through cognitive behavioral therapy, he knew all the tricks and he was excited to share them."

"...He sounds like he was a good older brother," Chromedome commented.

"He said he'd always wanted to be one," Brainstorm murmured, "It was almost a game, playing family, like I'd always been there, but I liked playing. It felt real like the other ones didn't. I was never the only foster kid in a family before. He helped me with my sixth grade science project. I wasn't allowed to use the glue gun."

"What was your project on?" Chromedome prompted.

Brainstorm squinted, thinking about it for a moment. "Determining the required duration of ultraviolet light to kill different types of bacteria. He drew a germ for me on my posterboard."

"That sounds like fun," Chromedome smiled sadly.

"For my twelfth birthday, he gave me his dad's old briefcase. He'd kept it for ages, you know, the way people keep things. I didn't know it was important at first and I'd played with it, put a bunch of papers in it and pretended to be a scientist. He got so upset… but he gave it to me later. I knew it was important. I took everything out of my backpack and put it in the briefcase. I brought it to school every day. I think it was the most important thing I owned. I didn't get to keep it when I left. One backpack of clothes is all you get to take with you."

"That's all?" Chromedome asked, horrified, "You had to leave everything behind every time?"

Brainstorm stared out the window, watching the trees pass them by. "The day he went missing I got off the bus at home and he wasn't there. His bus always got there before mine and he had the key, so he would wait for me and then walk me up to our apartment and he was in charge until his mother got home after work. But that day he wasn't there. And he never showed up. I waited in the curb until she got there and I remember her face when she got out of her car and saw me. She was so confused."

"You don't have to talk about this," Chromedome told him.

"She took me upstairs and then she called the school. He'd been to all his classes that day but the bus driver said he hadn't taken it home. She started calling his friends, to see if someone took him home, but he hadn't called, and he didn't have his own phone… it was dark when she called the police." He looked away from the window and towards the floor. "And then they found Skids. They hadn't really known each other, but he lived near us. He rode the same bus and hadn't ridden it that day either. The police report was a little vague, but they interviewed him with his mom. He'd called her for a ride home later that evening from a gas station near the school, and he seemed confused. He had a boot print on his jacket but they thought he was on drugs. He just kept saying he didn't know. He didn't remember. I think that maybe he took them together, somehow, maybe they missed the bus and he offered them a ride, I don't know. Maybe Skids fought harder. He was bigger than Quark. I think he kicked Skids out of the car and that was his bootprint, and then maybe Quark was just too afraid to fight back. Or maybe he did. I don't know. I'll never know. He's dead."

"Storm," Chromedome said, shifting to hold him up some, "You don't have to talk about it. Today's going to be hard enough. It's okay."

"And then she threw me away," Brainstorm continued, as if Chromedome hadn't spoken at all, "I said he wouldn't have run away, it wasn't drugs, someone took him, I knew it. She cried all the time. And I guess that's when we stopped playing the game. Her real son was gone, and I wasn't anything anymore. She didn't want me so she just gave me back. Defective goods. I never stayed anywhere more than a year again." 

"That's horrible," said Rewind, unable to resist interjecting, "After three years? She just gave you back up?"

"She didn't speak to me much after he went missing," he answered, "She mostly just cried. Like I said. The game was over."

"...You never told me any of this," Chromedome said softly, "You never even hinted to it."

"Of course I didn't," Brainstorm scoffed, sounding bitter, "People don't keep damaged goods. I learned that quickly enough. So you don't let people know you're damaged."

Chromedome's heart sank, ice cold between his ribs and he shifted Brainstorm to sit up so he could hold him properly. "I don't know if I'm supposed to tell you you're not damaged or that I'll keep you even if you are. I'm out of my depth, Storm, I don't know how to help you, but I want to. I would do anything to help if I knew what I was supposed to do."

"It's too late," Brainstorm murmured, "It was probably always too late."

"That's not true," Chromedome insisted, "It's not too late. You're still alive. I'm still here. I won't leave you. I promise."

"You can't promise that."

"I can and I am! You spent years babysitting my stupid idiot junkie ass and I'm not tapping out on you now. I won't." 

Brainstorm didn't reply. 

Chromedome didn't push him any further and let him sit in silence for the rest of the drive. It had been three weeks since he'd shown up on their doorstep soaking wet and covered in mud, and he hadn't been coping well. Or at all. He spent most of his time in bed in the guest room, staring at nothing, and every time Chromedome wanted to convince him to eat or shower or do _anything_ it took at least fifteen minutes of talking him up to get him to move. He seemed like he'd completely lost the will to do anything he wasn't being actively forced to. He'd officially withdrawn from school several weeks prior and been given three days to clear out his apartment, but when Chromedome had asked him to come with him he'd just said "they'll throw it all away. I don't care." Chromedome had spent an entire day trying to pack everything himself before Rewind had realized where he was and just called a moving company to take everything to a storage unit for later, and in the wake of the event left his stay in the guest room somewhat indefinite.

Rewind parked the car and sat for a moment in silence before he turned. "Do you need a minute? We can wait until you're ready." 

"No," said Brainstorm, sitting up, "I'll never be ready." 

"You know your- Quark's mom is probably here, right?" Chromedome asked gently, "Do you… want to say something?"

"Only that she was wrong to get rid of me," Brainstorm hissed vehemently, the most emotion he'd shown in days, " _I_ found him. _I_ figured it out. _I_ didn't give up. She was wrong."

"She was, Stormy," Rewind said, setting a hand on his knee, "It was cruel." 

"We've got you, Storm, just say whatever you need," Chromedome echoed, and then unlocked his door.

Brainstorm got out of the car and then just stood on his side, and Chromedome crossed around from his side to close his door and put a hand on his lower back, gently ushering him down the main path into the graveyard where the crowd was gathered. Rewind fell in on his opposite side, like a pair of ill-suited guards on an inappropriately sunny day.

The funeral was not poorly attended. Over invested detectives, childhood friends now adults, projecting family members of other Tarn victims, strangers struck by grief all gathered in a scattered circle, waiting for graveside service to begin for a funeral fifteen years delayed. Somber chatter fell to hushed whispers as Brainstorm stepped into the parting crowd and towards the front, all eyes on the man who'd given them a reason to be here today. He kept his eyes on the ground and his arms crossed, silent. 

Brainstorm looked up and stared at the casket and found himself surprised to see it was standard sized. What had been left of Quark had felt so small in his hands and he had been sure he would look so tiny in that huge box, drowning in it. Fancy thing that it was, too, black laquered bronze with ornate handles, clearly paid for by donors and not his once-and-former mother. Brainstorm had looked up casket prices before and he was certain it cost more than his car.

"Brainstorm!" 

All three of them looked up as the crowd shifted again and revealed a woman aged beyond her years, grey streaked brown hair pulled back, body bony and sunken eyes telling a story of too many years of stress and lost sleep. Her eyes were red and moist from what appeared to be weeks of crying, thin arms clutching an old briefcase to her chest like she was afraid it would float away if she let go. 

She surged through the mourners as if drawn by a magnet and as Brainstorm took a frightened step back Chromedome stepped in front of him protectively.

"No, please, please," she begged, face wet already, "Brainstorm, _please._ " 

"I don't want to talk to you," Brainstorm murmured, tightening his arms around his chest and turning his face away. 

"He doesn't want to talk to you," Chromedome repeated, but she shook her head and sidestepped him even as he sidestepped her, trying to get closer.

"No, Stormy, listen to me-"

"Don't call me that!" Brainstorm snapped, "You made your choice and you lost that right when you gave me back!" 

"I didn't give you _back!_ " she cried, wrecked, "They _took_ you!"

"What?" Brainstorm asked, pulling his arms apart as he shifted, startled. As if given new resolve she shoved past Chromedome and grabbed Brainstorm, pulling him tight in her arms even as he stood frozen.

"I never would have given you away! I _told_ you we were your family and I _meant_ it!" she sobbed, "The agency said I wasn't a fit home, I _told_ them you wouldn't do well but they wouldn't listen to me-"

"Oh," said Brainstorm, the word ice cold on his tongue.

"I had to stay no contact until you were eighteen, but I tried to call you, I did, but-"

"I ignored your calls," Brainstorm finished. 

"I'm so sorry," she repeated, like a prayer, "God, it's been fifteen _years_ baby, did you _ever_ move on?"

"No," Brainstorm answered, whale-eyed.

"I'm so sorry," she sniffled, "It was my fault. I was supposed to protect you and I didn't and I am so _sorry_ , Brainstorm."

"Oh," Brainstorm said again, processing slowly, "I didn't know."

"He would have been so proud of you," she quavered, her hands shaking where they clutched his shirt, "I am."

For a moment Brainstorm was frozen solid, before his face screwed up and the tears came and he grabbed her back like he was afraid she might disappear.

" _Mom,_ " he sobbed.


End file.
